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FORE! 

THE CALL OF THE LINKS 




V: ({c.^^^^-y^X-^i'^u^ . 



I ^taTcall ^, 



LINKS 




W\ Hastings VVehlin^ 



H.M.CALDWELL C^ 

Publishers 
t>ostonj> and New York 



b1 



s^^v^ 



Copyright^ igog 
By H. M. Caldwell Co. 



Published simnltaneouslv in the United States, 
Great Britain, Canada, and 
British Possessions 




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tmp96 026370 



EleeirotyPed and Printed hy 
THE COLONIAL PRESS 
C. H. Simonds &' Co., Boston, If. S. A . 



PREFACE 

Ignorance like a thick cloud encompassed 
the Missouri paragrapher who defined golf as 
shinny with all the fun taken out. It is plain 
that he was not a golfer. The game is Hke life 
because it develops so many lost opportunities, 
and certainly life is the source of all humour. 
Again it is like life because it brings moments 
of ecstatic happiness. It produces inspiration, 
and inspiration begets poetry. So that as golf 
can induce both humour and poetry the advent 
of the author is strictly logical. 

Golfers yet unborn will meet difficulties. 
They will top their drives, they will be bunkered, 
they will lose balls. Should they not have the 
satisfaction of reading in graceful verse that 
they were duffers " in the elder days of art " ? 

How else can such an opportunity be af- 
forded to posterity save by the publication of 
this little volume? Every warm and humane 
feeling of our natures demands it. Posterity 
must be accommodated. Critics of the Swin- 
burnian school may cavil, but *tis no matter. 
The book is not for them, but for the man who 
can do eighteen holes _ in 130, or thereabouts, 
while not neglecting the possibilities of impres- 
sionist colouring iji the EngUsh language. 



CONTENTS 



Dedication " To Golfers All " 

" Fore ! and away " 

The Golfer's Awakening 

A Hope 

Spring on the Links 

"Kismet" . 

Song, Glorious Golf 

" Resuscitation " . 

Envy .... 

" A Novice " 

To the Lassies ! 

Twosomes and Lonesomes 

A Golf Illusion 

The Golf BaU 

Golf Sympathy 

A Twosome . 

The Judge at Golf 

Golf Talk 

Golf .... 

The Cause . 

Spring .... 

" Dreams of a Duffer " 

Retrospection 

Soliloquy of a Lost Golf Ball 

To the NibUck 

The Perfect Golfer 

" An Episode " 



V 

vii 
I 
3 
4 
6 

9 
II 

13 

15 
17 
i8 

19 

22 
23 
25 
27 
28 

30 
33 
35 
36 

39 
40 

43 
44 
46 



CONTENTS 



A Little Golf Joke 

** Lost Ball " 

" The Golfiac " . 

" You Never Can Tell " 

" Links and Drinks " . 

" A Duffer " 

The Game of Golf 

Too Bad 

" The Nineteenth Hole '' 

" Theories " . 

Au Revoir 



49 
51 
55 
56 

58 
61 

63 
66 

67 
68 

72 



DEDICATION 

••TO GOLFERS ALL" 

When Anglo-Saxon golfers meet on top of God*s 
creation, 
It matters not what flag we fly, or what may be 
our nation; 
One mutual " link " unites us all, and grips 
above all others — 
A bond most true, that binds anew, and brands 
each golfer — brothers ! 

As through the world, unconsciously, our wande- 
ring steps are wended. 
We meet good golfers everywhere, good spirits, 
finely blended. 
One race in fact, in speech, in creed, in spite 
of outside scoffers. 
And what is more both " far and sure," we 
stand as brother golfers! 

So, gentlemen, a toast I pledge, to our grand 
recreation. 
To golfers all, who play the game, no matter 
what his station; 
May we *' hole out," when we " lay dead," and 
win what Heaven offers. 
United still, come will or nil, a '' well up," 
band of golfers! 



"FORE! AND AWAY" 

Fore ! and away — let that be our song, 
Spring has arrived, and the feeUng is strong; 
Bring out your clubs, let's be tramping along, 
For the call of the links is alluring. 

Fore! and away, — the prospects are fair; 
We all start in hope, which may end in despair; 
But playing the game, what the deuce do we care, 
The pleasures of golf are enduring. 

Fore ! and away — we can't all excel. 
Duffers are many, and science will tell; 
But we get as much fun as those who play well, 
The joy of the game's in the trying. 

Fore ! and away — tho' fortune may frown, 
Victory's laurel may not be our crown. 
Sometimes we're up — tho' more often we're 
down, 

But hope in our heart is undying. 

Fore ! and away — let's after the ball, 
Mark it, my lads, near the place it may fall. 
Or hang the blamed thing! you'll ne'er find it 
at all. 

The gay little sphere is the limit. 

Fore ! and away — ! sweet the refrain. 
Clearing your mind of all sorrow and pain. 
Except what you find, while you're playing the 
game ; 

! Golf is a treat — so begin it ! 



Vll 



ii**'-^ .\ 



v^^^Pi^iP 



" JV'A i* ' 




THE GOLFER'S AWAKENING 



The season of winter and waiting is over, 
The note of the robin is heard on the air, 
And fresh from his resting the Golfer awakens 
To welcome glad springtime, so winsome and fair. 
He casts from his presence his skates and his 

snowshoes. 
Those invites to Dances and 

Bridge — such a bore ! 
Then takes from a corner his 

faithful old Brassy, 
And whirling it fondly, 

he fiercely yells 

**Fore!" 

He thinks with 
regret of the time 
that's beenwasted. 
At social engage- 
ments and such 
fal-de-rals, 




^^ 




\ ^ 










« '>X'" >. 




\\ 



When he might have been out on the golf links 
a-putting, 

Or knocking the life out of dollar golf balls. 

He sighs for the days and the long summer eve- 
nings 

When he roams o'er the Links, Ah! he wants 
nothing more, 

But a chance to knock spots off his last season's 
record, 

And shout in his triumph that battle cry " Fore ! " 



So here's to the Golfer, 
his bag and his 
Brassy, 

His Driver, his Lofter, 
his Putter, his Cleek, 

Soon may he capture, his 
heart's fond ambi- 
tion, 

The crown that evades, 
yet compels him to 
seek. 





w^ -^v 



ftO^-. 



And so when he leaves us for realms undis- 
covered, 

We pray he may land on that beautiful shore, 

Where the '' greens " are all perfect, and golf 
balls are gratis. 

And obstacles melt, when he simply says " Fore ! " 



A HOPE 



When in life's Autumnal evening. 
We sit round the fire and we dream 
About the old days on the Links, boys, 
And the glorious times that have 

been, 
*Tis then that I hope some old 

comrade, 
Will join with me once in a 

while. 
And yarn over old recollections, = . ^. 
With a sigh for the past — and a ^ ^ 

smile. 





SPRING ON THE LINKS 

" Hope springs eternal in the Golfer's breast " 

Well, so long Mister Winter, youVe done your 
level best 
To hog the course for months, and keep us 
waiting. 
Now you're off to other spheres — we're not 
a-shedding tears 
Because our fair domain, you are forsaking. 
We stood your snubs unkind, and your 
irritating wind, 
And let you play right through us, 
uncomplaining, 
But now you're really off — we should 
like a little golf — 
Impossible with you, old pal, remaining. 



Thrice welcome then, sweet 
springtime, we adore 
your joyous " Fore ! " 

4 





'^iiH^.y^, 



Compared with surly winter's — it's delicious, 
Like your sex, you may be free, to indulge in 
coquetry 
And be at times a trifle too capricious. 
Yet we revel in your smiles, and your fascinating 
wiles. 
Rejoicing in the song you're gaily singing. 
For the time, we know, has come, to anticipate 
some fun 
With gifts galore, your ladyship is bringing. 



Ah! the golfer's load is lifted, with your coming, 
gentle spring 
Forgetful of the past, his heart is waking 
To the future, and his aim, is to play the ancient 
game 
And do the course, in score, 
that's record breaking. 
! it's great to be alive — so *' tee 
up," dear boys, and drive 
To start once more the gay golf 
ball a-flying; 

5 






■Aif-ty^r 



For well we understand — the chance for all is 
grand, 
The glory of the game is in the trying! 

•• KISMET " 



'Tis strange to think the day must come, 

When I at home remain, 
To watch the younger men start out 

To play the good old game. 
To hear their voices full of life, 

The links come floating o'er. 
And smile, with just a tinge of pain. 

To hear their lusty Fore. 



The day that I, in easy chair 
Must be content and wait. 
To hear the doings of the day. 
That other lips relate. 
To note the tales of " record 
score," 





f*f^ 



5^\1— ' 



The " ifs " and *' might have been," 
Those " wonderful recoveries 
That almost fetch'd the green ! " 



*Tis then my wandering glance will turn 

To those old clubs of mine 
To mark the scars of battle lust 

The rust of fleeting time. 
For by my side, they still will stand, 

In well deserved rest — 
Old comrades of a thousand fights. 

That stood the strongest test. 



And proudly on its pedestal 

A cup will reign alone, 
A tarnish'd trophy of the past, 

But yet my very own. 
For it will ever bring to mind 

That I, in keen fought game. 
Won out our club's first handicap (^^VS'^Xi^ 

And tasted golf's sweet fame. 

7 




^^ 




And friends with whom I used to play, 

Will come in dreams to me, 
And cheer the gloom of fading light 

With their fond memory. 
The Judge, our Captain, and the boys 

Who in the days long past 
Did form a place within my heart 

That shall forever last. 



jC><«s>A^^ 



But why anticipate the end ? 

Far wiser would it be, 
To play the game while life remains. 

And strength is left to me. 
But when at length the time ar- 
rives 
That I, thro' strength's decay 
Must lose my place — I'll step 
aside 
And then, let come what may! 
S 




/• v-v>>*-'-Z^tk- 




SONG 



GLORIOUS GOLF 



Come leave your counter and your desk 

All you who slave for treasure, 

For out upon the merry links 

Rich joys await your pleasure. 

'Tis there you'll breathe the pure fresh air 

With pine and clover scented, 

And best of all, there's golf, my boys, 

The grandest game invented. 



CHORUS 

Two rounds upon the merry links 
Will chase all troubles off, boys. 
Far better than all drugs and drinks 
Is the glorious game of golf, boys. 
Is the glorious game of golf. 

Beneath a fav'ring sky, we tread 
The soft green turf, so lightly; 
With hearts aglow with exercise 

9 





.^'<^'. 



And eyes that sparkle brightly 

We tramp the fields and climb the hills, 

And hear the gay balls singing 

As onward into space they fly, 

Like birds swift homeward winging. Chorus. 

The stranger looks with scornful eye 
Upon the lusty golfer, 
And sees no skill, no charm, or fun 
That this great sport can offer. 

But once he starts to 

play the game 
He'll quickly cease to 

scoff, boys. 
And soon be shouting 

with the rest. 
There's nothing quite 
Uke golf, boys! 
Chorus. 

So here's good luck to 
golfers all, 

10 








No matter what their station, 

British, French, American, 

Or any other nation. 

To him I drink, who fights until 

The keen fought game is off, boys. 

Then turns to grasp your hand and joins 

In praise of good old golf, boys! Chorus. 

•* RESUSCITATION " 

Podgers treads the verdant 

links 
With blithesome step and 

gay, 

Humming as he tramps : 
along 

Some rhythmic 
roundelay. 

His heart pulsates 
with proud de- 
light. 

He scents the ' 
breath of fame, 

1 1 





For sure as fate, he's struck a gait, 
And Podg is on his game. 

Podgers views with pitying eye 

His poor opponent, who 

Sees nought of glamour in the game 

Or beauty in the view. 

Who silently, in morbid mood 

Doth foozle, fuss, and fume, 

And seems to miss, ecstatic bliss, 

In clouds of mental gloom. 



Podgers plays with airy 

grace 
And drives both straight 

and free. 
His brassies often fetch 

the green. 
He putts unerringly. 
In fact he's playing 

such a game 
That youthful dreams 




revive, 



12 



fa 







te 




.11 



.^^ 



«tO-s 



And to his joy, the dear old boy 
Gets round in " ninety-five '* ! 

Podgers wins out easily — 

" Four up and three to play ! " 

Sorrows of the painful past 

Are buried deep to-day. 

He struts the club triumphantly 

And treats the crowd, you bet! 

And cries " beware! you boys, for there 

Is Ufe in the old dog yet ! " 



ENVY 

Fve just had a letter from Jim, 

He's having one glorious time 
In a place where the skies never dim 

And the cUmate is simply sublime. 
And Jim plays at golf ev'ry day 

With never a trouble or care, 
Or passes the time with a vision 
divine, 

Whose Pa is a great millionaire. 

13 





Jove ! how I envy the lad 

Now basking 'neath languorous skies 
With joys that can only be had 

If your " wad's " a respectable size, 
But Jim has the goods and he's game 

To touch all the spots that are high, 
His letters just teem, with pleasures supreme 

And rivers of " fizz," " extra dry." 




But I, darn the luck ! must remain 
Just plugging away for dear life 
J' In a climate of sorrow, of snow, wind and 

(^\aiJ^ In the city of hustle and strife. 
^^ /^r My liver is torpid, oh, say, 

Fm sick of the whole bally 
game, 
^ < ~" ^\ I long for the calm of the fig 

\ tree and palm 

"^^ ^^^ And the chant of the 

'T^ ^.;^.^,^JU^-4^u.^5™ ' ocean's refrain. 



y 



;> 



/. 



14 




Yet Jim bids me pack up my things 

And hike for this reahn of deUght, 
Where fun with the morning begins 

And ends with the small hours of night. 
He knows, hang it all! that I can't, 

So it's simply a criminal sin 
To stir up a man, as only Jim can, 

And finish by rubbing it in! 



•A NOVICE'* 

** So this is your game of golf ! " 
He cries with words profane. 
** No wonder the wise guys scoff 
At your Royal and Ancient game 
I've lost three balls in the woods 
And two on the open course, 
I've broken a club — its tough ! 
After working all day hke a horse. 



" And this is the game, begad ! 
You said, was unlimited fun. 
It's put me all to the bad 
You darned old son of a gun. 

15 




.'**2U«<^> 



1^ -6>;r 







-^ 




I've tried every way that I know 
To eye that ball — but gee ! 
What I need is a ball to keep 
A fatherly eye on me. 

" It*s all very well for you 
To coach me how to stand, 
To always follow through — 
Not press to beat the band. 
My hands are blistered, and I 
Am jolly near down and out, 
And 0! my throat's so dry 
I could drink from a water spout. 




" All right, ril try once more 
To swat that blamed little ball 
And then if I fail to score, 
I'm off, for good and all. 
My word ! but I soaked her then — 
A bird! did you see her go? 

Two hundred yards and ten 
Or more, well, — I want to 
know! 
i6 





U .. .' 







y^^^s 





f4?f 



" Say, did you see me * putt * ? 

What do yon think of that? 

Luck ! why, you silly old ' mutt,' 

You're talking through your hat! 

I know you're a golfer, but then. 

Don't you be getting too gay 

Or you'll be an * also ran ' 

When you strike Uttle Willie some day." 



So back to the club we go, 
He talks all the time of the game. 
Of just what he did, and he's keen 
To be out on the Unks again. 
He laps up a good many drinks 
And shouts, as we part at the door, 

" I'll use you to sweep up the 
links 

To-morrow, old fellow, at 
Four." 

TO THE LASSIES! 

Here's to the lassies, God bless 

'em! 
We all want to love and caress 

'em, 

17 





But money*s so tight, 
It's impossible quite, 
To feed the dear creatures, and dress 'em. 



TWOSOMES AND LONESOMES 

They started out together very well, 
Whatever seemed to happen none can tell, 

But I saw him use his " putter " 

For a " brassy," that was utter 
Nonsense, any amateur knows well. 

He seemed to be confused — I don't know 
What made him play with such a lack of " go," 
For he only met her lately. 
And she acted so sedately. 

Funny, for we always thought him 
slow. 



I missed them for a little, then O 

dear! 
I noticed they were resting, and I 

fear, 
18 




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M ^i^^^^fe.^# 



'm 



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U 



That the laddie, growing bolder, 
Drew her head close to his shoulder, 
Kissed the lips so rapturously near. 

I turned away quite sadly, for I had 
A similar adventure when a lad. 
And now I'm slowly learning 
From that vision oft returning. 
Lonesome games in Ufe and golf are bad. 



A GOLF E.LUSION 

She looked a perfect picture as 
she stood at "Number One." 
A trifle too elaborate, and yet — 
One couldn't help admire her 
fashion-plate attire. 
And all the boys were '* rubber- 
ing," you bet! 
Her dress was clinging white, and 
surely a delight. 
And hose designed to put one 
" off " his game; 

19 














^^w^-^^/fM/**^ 






'•»''V,<f;.V 



Her shoes looked simply sweet, upon her tiny 
feet, 
Tho* they wouldn't stand a *' show down " in 
the rain. 



She certainly looked stunning, for a Merry Widow 
hat 
Encrowned her curly locks becomingly, 
While on her cheeks so fair, dwelt the blush of 
peaches rare, 

And lips that sort of 
signaPd " come to 
me " ; 
We watched her, all 
aglow, most curious 
to know 
Who she was, and what 
might be the maiden's 
name; 
But close beneath his 
wing Brown kept 
this dainty thing, 




20 




And they started out to play the " ancient 



game 



>» 



2- • 



We envied Brown, and cuss'd him, for a most 
disgusting hog, 
And waited round the clubhouse in despair, 
Reflecting on her smile, complexion, and her 
style, 
And the golden - tinted 
beauty of her hair. 
Then, the skies long overcast, 
broke forth with 
rain at last. 
And down in torrents 
pour'd relentlessly ; 
And when the maid 
came back, the 
truth to tell, alack ! 
She was a most 
bedraggled sight to 
see. 




tr^ . 



21 










w 



%'V1^ 



We certainly felt sorry, for we noted with amaze 

The glossy tint had left her straightened hair, 
And that complexion fine, well, it didn't show a 
sign 

Of peaches, for it wasn't " on the square,'* 
She didn't look the same, since the falling of 
the rain, 

Which swept away another pleasant dream; 
Proving out and out, that there's jolly little doubt 

Things are very seldom what they seem. 

THE GOLF BALL 

THE IDEAL 

What joy to watch that 

gay little ball 
Wending its wingless 

flight 
Far into space, with a 

sv/erving grace, 
And a bird-like pinion'd 

might. 
Then will it rest, upon 

the crest, 

22 








Of a soft smooth grassy lie; 
Till your brassy true, will follow it thro' 
To the green, and its " nest " near by. 

THE REAL! 

I haven't much use for that blamed little ball, 

Sneaking away in disgrace ; 
Topp'd from the tee — you will plainly see 

It make for some treacherous place, 
There like a snide, it will secretly hide, 

Tho' you search, in the same old way — 
Till a caddie new, will find it for you, 

At a price, on some future day. 

GOLF SYMPATHY 

Invidious comparisons are odious, I 
know. 
But I can beat old Bertie, just the 
same ; 
He's really quite a duffer, and I do 
not want to blow, 
I'm rather hard to beat when on 
my game. 

23 




? < 







Of course I'm not a Travers, a Travis, or a Beyers, 

But I toddle round in *' ninety," more or less. 
Yet Bert persists in saying — when he*s feeling 
well and playing, 
He can make me " fiy the signal of dis- 
tress." 




6\ 



A blatant bit of boasting, that, for often when we 
play, 
I beat old Bert, quite frequently you know, 
'Tis then that you should hear him, com- 
plaining all the way, 
//^ "^^vK Of everything existing here below, 

/^"^J^^ He blames his wretched Uver, indigestion 
^^/\ and his wife, 

Txm. For dragging him " to call " the night 

// '7 V before ; 

/ ^^^S^^^ ^^^ ^' ^^^ awful cussing — his 

/ :^'^i?i^^^^^ temper, and his fussing, 

^~ --^^ Makes Bert a most un- 

'.,..-^-'^^_%^^:^!r*^^'-'-<^^^-^^^'' mitigated bore. 




Last Saturday I play'd him, for a dinner at the 

club, 
He happened to be playing quite a game. 
My luck was simply rotten, — foozle, top and 

dub — 

And mentioning it, would hardly warrant 
blame. 
But Bert was very chesty, and once or twice 
remarked. 
He thought it better form, '' 'twixt you and me," 
To just abstain from kicking — when I got an 
honest licking. 
And that's what I call lack of sympathy ! 



A TWOSOME 

When first we started out I didn't 

like her style, 
She seemed incUned to " rattle," 

with her disconcerting smile, 
For I was keen on golfing, not 

frivolling away 
The hours that have been given 

us the noble game to play. 
25 




/t-vO^-X^' 




^^ 



Before we got half round her words were rather 

rare ; 
I found her st\ie improving, and her '* brassies" 

ver}' fair, 
She w^asn't strong in driving, her swing a Uttle 

*' set,'* 
But when she landed near the green she played 

the game, you bet ! 



By Jove, this dainty maiden, who looked so 

sweet and trim, 
Just held me down completely — you could hear 

the " caddies " grin. 
One couldn't help admiring, her pluck was 
great to see. 
She didn't win the game of golf, 
but simply finished me. 



Now we play together nearly all the 

time, 
I like to hear her pretty talk, her 

jx^ smile is just divine. 





By Jove, there's no denying, 
it's great fun for a man, 
26 



^^irl 




To play a tender " twosome " with a sweet 
American ! 



THE JUDGE AT GOLF 

Have you ever seen the Judge address the ball ? 

He fixes it with stern judicial gaze, 
A look that would the guilty soon appall, 

And from the court win well deserved praise. 
He eyes that Httle culprit on the '' dot," 

And lifts the arm of justice, stern and true, 
Saying, as he gives an awful swat — 

" Two hundred yards or more, my man, for 
you! " 



But it's awful when the Judge is 
" off " his game, 
The skies are duU'd as by 
some dark-set cloud. 
Each misspent *' Putt," and 
" Brassy " topp'd or tame. 
Doth cause a silence that is 
almost loud. 
And all the 'dressing on this vital 
case, 

27 




<^-^*^^ 




wQu, 



>z 



'^J 




Alas! expended in an effort vain, 
Leaves nought but his convincing legal grace, 
To fasten on some varied cause the blame. 



»> 



Should you ever see the Judge when really " on, 

A joy ineffable is then for you in store, 
To watch him '* follow thro' "unerring, strong, 

And '* Brassy " like a Vardon — shouting fore! 
Then when the game is over, and you hear 

The points discussed, with dignity benign, 
'Tis great indeed to note his verdict clear, — 

*' I did it in a perfect * eighty-nine' ! '* 




GOLF TALK 

Brown heard four men conversing 
Not many weeks ago, 
Men of high position, all 

Professional, and so 
He thought it fit and proper 

To Usten, and may be 
Exalted words of wisdom 
Might fall eventually. 
28 



/^y>^^Z^t^ 




^* ,^^m 




He heard one say, distinctly, 

" I took my ' brassy ' then, 
And handed out a * screamer * 

Two hundred yards and ten; 
It landed in the ' bunker,* 

The one behind the ' gore ' ; 
It put me off my game, but I 

Came home in ' eighty-four.' " 



*Twas Greek to Brown, but patient, 

He heard a doctor sigh : 
" I don't know what's the reason. 

But fear I've lost my eye ; 
It's really most annoying, 

I cannot hit a thing. 
To one who's played as long as I, 

It's simply damaging." 



Poor Brown got quite excited ^ /a 

When next the bishop spoke, / ^/^TT 

And on that face benevolent ^.; '/I ^La, 

He fondly placed his hope, ^^d^^^^^^^^i^^^c^--- 





'-'•s^- 



^<k^ 



So eagerly he listened, 

His very best, to try 
And find his lordship's reason 

For that disgusting " lie." 

For just two hours precisely 
He heard them all declaim 
On " hanging lies " and ** hazards," 

And thought them all insane ; 
Then reaching for his hat and coat 

Said Brown, as out he flung : 
" It must be golf they're 
•p- talking — 

'^' Well, that's where Willie's 

stung!" 

GOLF 

Do you know Macpherson? 

A golfer bold is he. 
If you should ever meet 
him, 
Don't say that you know 

me. 
30 





We used to lunch together 
At times we dined as well, 

But all is o'er between us now, 
The reason I will tell. 



Macpherson hailed from Scotland, 
(You'd guess so from his name) 
A sort of budding Vardon, 
The way he talked the game. 
He yarned of nought but 
Golfing, 
Of *' Foursomes " for 
the drinks. 
The mighty ones he van- 
quished, 
On old St. Andrew's 
links. 

Night by night Mac- 
pherson, 

Would smoke and 
drink and dream. 









fy<^^ 






,» 










"^€1 



Reviewing feats prodigious, 

Describing shots supreme. 
And always 'ere we parted, 

He said, when spring arrives, 
*' I'll show you just what * puttin' * is, 

And how Macpherson drives." 

So I played Macpherson, 

One afternoon last May, 

I really was most nervous. 

In a horrid kind of way. 

But Mac was up and 
doing, 
; ^7 He swung his driver 

free, 
But awful was the silence. 
His ball ne'er left the 
'' tee." 

Strange to say, Macpher- 
son, 
Played on from bad to 
^~ ^'"^ wuss, 

32 





/>^ •>-. 



Wvn'^Vv^ '^''^ 



^y^ 



And when he topped or foozled, 
You should have heard him cuss. 

I know I'm not a champion — 
I wish I was alack ! 

But still for all, I swept the green, 
Of what was left of Mac. 



Should you meet Macpherson, 

You'll surely find some fun, 
To start the ball a rolling, 

On Golf, and how it's done. 
And when you've got him going 

Just " butt in " one to see 
If Sandy still remembers 

The day that he played me. 

THE CAUSE 

He came a crash, did Johnson, 

A bad financial mess, 
That broke his happy home up, 

And caused him sad distress. 
It was not unexpected. 

He knew it had to come, 

33 




i^- fi<y^^ 




n:^^-' 



And now the worst was over, 
He rather liked the fun. 




It was not wine nor women, 

'Twas not a motor car, 
That caused the great upheaval. 

And gave him such a jar. 
It was not Mrs. Johnson, 

Who dresses neat, but plain. 
And only ran to *' tea and cake '* 

When she did entertain. 

It was not bridge — for Johnson 
jik^ Was lucky as could be, 
^ His hands were always picturesque, 
A cheering sight to see. 

^ ^^_ Ah no, it was far worse than these, 

s^^rV^^ That caused this man to fall. 

He squandered all his earn- 

>-^ ings, in 
<--^^^- The dollar-ine golf ball. 

34 








SPRING 

What ! the sun is shining, 

Jack Frost has hit the pike; 
The fresh, young grass is growing. 

And the course looks out of sight. 
The ice has left the river, 

Soft breezes gently swell; 
And all good golfers waken 

To the sign they know so well. 

Bring out your clubs, and polish 

The rust and dust away; 
Bring out your boots and sweater, 

And the balls you love to play ; 
For out upon the links, boys. 

The greens are Waiting fair. 
To give you sport and pleasure, 

That you alone can share. 



Cast off the sloth of winter — 

Your liver needs it bad ; 
Your circulation's sluggish. 
And your nerves are to the 
sad. 

35 




'►^^>*^i^tk.v 



li 




But once you start a-playing, 
And tramp the links, you bet 

The strains and pains of winter, 
You'll mighty soon forget. 

Cheer ! the balls are flying ! 

The good old game's begun! 
The past is soon forgotten 

In the hopes of joys to come. 
So play the game; and, playing, 

We'll strive as ne'er before, 
To knock spots off the record, 

And smash last season's score. 




"DREAMS OF A DUFFER" 

The night is far spent, and I'm think- 
ing 
Of the fortune that's coming to 
me, 
Left by a distant relation. 

Who lived in strange lands o'er 
a- the sea. 

^^^ And I'm told that the money's 
invested 

36 




r 



.-•y 



^ 






IV 







^>^ 



^^^ 



V 



ff^ 



In a most satisfactory way ; 
So there's nothing to do but get busy, 
And have a good time while I may. 

No more in the morning they'll wake me 

By banging Uke mad on the door; 
Proclaiming, in language offensive, 

" It's time that I cut out that snore." 
No more to the office I'll hustle; 

No more will I slave as of yore, 
And grind at that bally old ledger, 

Or write till my fingers are sore. 



But ho ! for a life of enjoyment. 
An automobile, all for 
mine ; 
A green-coated " beaut," and^//^ 

a flyer, ^^A\^ '^ 

The sort that can go to /c^ 

beat time. 
'Tis then to the golf links I'U 
hasten, 

lU the day if I <,^^>^^^^^^_ 




will; 



^^^ 



37 




With lots of new balls always handy, 
And caddies of training and skill. 

By Jove! how I revel delighted, 

In fancies of pleasures to be ; 
When I play o'er the famous old courses. 

That often I've longed so to see, 
'Tis then, with the best of good coaches, 

I'll learn all I can of the game. 
And come back a *' golfer " — a cracker! 

With a corner on trophies and fame. 




At night, with a few boon companions. 

At poker or bridge we will play ; 
Or sit in the cosy old smoke-room, 
Discussing events of the day. 

And yarn, with a joy never failing. 
Of the splendid old game, ever 
new — 
By Jove! but it's hard to beheve 

it, 
And almost too good to be 
true! 

38 



/ .-A,l>^*Z/t/s>. 




Then some day, perhaps, I may marry 

A dear little maid, up to date; 
Who'll share in my joys and my sorrows — 

In fact, be a jolly good mate. 
Together we'll play life's sweet " twosome," 

And children — Great Scot ! What a shock ! 
Tm hanged if I haven't been dreaming — 

By thunder, it's past eight o'clock! 

RETROSPECTION 

When I started out last spring, 
My golf was voted quite the thing, 
My drives were faultless in 

their flight, 
Style and swing were just all 

right, 
Distance simply out of sight — C^ 
When I started out last / i^ 
spring. 

Certainly I played the game. 
Adding laurels to my fame, 
39 





'•<i!*v 



Took a scalp most every day, 
Won a tournament away 
With six up and five to play — 

When I started out last spring. 



Now 'tis fall — how time doth fly, 
Pm off my game — I know not why, 

Ball be ! I couldn't hit, 

Balloons for me are far more fit — 
But yet, sweet thought, I once was " it," 
When I started out last spring. 

SOLILOQUY OF A LOST 
GOLF BALL 

Thank Fate, I've escaped 
from the hands of a 
dub. 
From a player impossi- 
ble, quite; 
A bald-headed party, whose 
knowledge of golf. 
To put it politely, was — 
slight. 
40 









He found me by chance on a bright summer's day, 
And blessed his good fortune, for I 

Was a sweet-looking ball, not damaged at all. 
And perfect to " putt " or to " fly." 

I thought it was clever to hide in the " long " 
From the man who first owned me ; but say, 
It's many a time I've regretted my act, 

And deeply repented that day ; 
For he was a '* plus," not a 
swatter of swats. 
Who hacked me all over 
the face. 
Like that fat -headed 
clown, so swagger in 
town. 
But out on the 
Links — a dis- 
grace ! ^^ 

Ah, well, I deserved 
it for going astray 

41 




^ 




OS • — i^>. 







-.^^^ 






V' 



At a time when it meant such a lot, 
To stay on the course Uke a well-bred golf ball 

Of that eminent Une of " Black dot." 
I lost him the match, that young master of mine, 

And I know how he wanted to win; 
But lor' ! you can bet that I've Uved to regret 

That I ever went back upon him. 

Since then I have suffered the torments of Hell 

At the hands of that Duffer, for he 
Could swear like a trooper when things went awry, 

And his wrath wreaked 
its vengeance on me. 
All shattered and battered 
and cruelly abused, 
I fled to this hole in the 
ground ; 
For golf may be fine, but 
the " simple " for 
mine ! 
So I pray nevermore to 
be found. 








vl1 



TO THE NIBLICK 

What a trusty old friend is a Niblick, 
What an excellent comrade is he, 
Tho' we seldom refer to his friendship 
Or speak of his service so free. 
We don't often tell of the times, sir. 
He saved us defeat and despair; 
By helping us out of a Bunker 
And troubles, too often our share. 



We don't take him out in the open. 
And flourish him swift thro' the air; 
Or talk of his wonderful service, 
Or boast of his qualities rare. 
But right in the background we 

keep him, 
Forgotten, neglected and sad; 
But quickly he comes to the 

front, sir, 
When our brassy lands us to 

the bad. 

43 





tr--^-^ 



Yet still when the season is over, 
And golf for the present is done; 
We say au revoir to our clubs, sir, 
And grant them the rest that they've won. 
We glance at our well balanced driver, 
Our brassy so brilliant and true; 
But Gad ! when we come to old Niblick, 
Well! we take off our hat, boy — to you. 




THE PERFECT GOLFER 

** 'Tis not the cowl that makes the monk," 

Or yet his clubs, the golfer; 
The clothes he wears, the bag he bears, 
/f[ ^.\ Or yarns he has to offer. 

(.c^^^dkA Nor is it he who seeks to pose, 
^<^h^^ And boast of play surprising; 

I \ Or loves to dwell on scores that — well, 
f\ ^ 




Quite often need revising. 



»Tis not the crank that 
cannot play 

44 




A ball that's not the fashion; 
Who, when he dubs, will blame his clubs, 

Or fly into a passion. 
Nor he who at the slightest chance, 

A " fore " will bellow madly; 
Yet on the green will stand and dream. 

And keep you waiting sadly. 



Nor yet the man who carelessly 

On others* rights encroaches; 
*Tis not a joke for slower folk 

To feel his wild approaches. 
Or he, without a fair excuse, 

Will take up your position ; 
And thro* you play, in heedless way. 

And scorns to ask permission. 



But mark the man who plays 
the game 
For all the sport that's in it; 
Who, striving still, with ear- 
nest will, 
To play up to his limit. 
45 




/'^<>^*;'^<v 








^->^ 



Who holds his temper well in check, 

Of others ne'er a scoffer; 
Whose courtesy — so fair to see — 

Proclaims the perfect golfer. 



•• AN EPISODE " 

I landed in the bunker, the one at number 

" eight," 
Just as I was going some, and striking quite a 

gait; 
At first I tried, with patience, in vain to get it out, 
But all my skill was wasted, it stuck beyond a 

doubt. 
I madly dashed my cap aside, and hit out Uke a fool, 
But still that blessed ball came back, 

a-bucking like a mule; 
'Twas then my patience ended; I 

couldn't dam the tide. 
But think I covered everything 
there was to d beside. 

Just then I saw our Parson, 
the Rev. James McFlay, 
46 






/l-^^^t^fe 



^l'-^' 



l.»^' 



Who*d lately been appointed, and arrived the 

day; 
He lookM at me in sorrow, the silence was 

intense — 
And, personally speaking, I felt like " thirty 

cents/' 
At last he said : " My brother, I do not know 

your name, 
But your language seems more potent than your 

knowledge of the game. 
Tm really quite astonished — it seems to me 

absurd. 
You do not use your * niblick,' and get out, like a 

bird." 



I noted with amazement, a twinkle 
in his eye. 

So, handing him my niblick, said : 
'* Perhaps sir, you will try." X/' 

He grasped my club with pleasure, 
it almost seemed a dream — 

He lofted out a beauty, to the cor- 
ner of the green. 

Instinctively, I passed him my 
** putter," just to see 

47 





--■-€m3U 



^<=^'^%A/V^. 



If he could follow up the stunt, and finish out in 

"three"; 
Instead of which he " putted," timed accurate 

and true, 
HoUng out a wily " one," in just a perfect " two." 

I paused, in admiration, and pinched myself to 

see 
If I was only dreaming, or in a trance could 

be; 
But there he stood, and softly said: "Brother, 

you were wrong ; 
Altho' I know, none better, your difficulties 

strong. 
But, still, I would advise you, when you land in 
such a trap. 

To use your faithful ' niblick,' 
and stand a little back; 
1^ Then slowly take a half swing, 

with your eye well on the 
^y ^ ^all — 

>^^ '^:;^ Forgive my interference ; good 
'^ ' " day, sir " — that was all ! 

48 





^ ^^ 



'm 



-.'W 



A LITTLE GOLF JOKE 

And they told him the man he was playing 

Was an eminent parson, and so 
He must not give way to bad language, 

Or let his hot passions overflow. 
No matter what fortune provided — 

How he topp'd, sliced, or found the long 
grass; 
There'd be no excuse for profanity's use — 

He must just let the incident pass. 



So he started right in with the cleric. 
Who certainly looked quite the 
part ; 
And played the first nine very 
fairly. 
With joy to his crusty old (^k; 
heart. / p9 j^ 

Then luck, without warning, de- / <' ^ 
serted, /■.i_ 

And things went from bad to 
much worse ; 

49 





/<- - -1^ 




^u^^- 



"^ '^\^^:V 



\h<^M^^^ 



^ 



jr.^' 



-^^Qn- 



Still bravely he fought, as he knew that he 
ought, 
To keep from his favourite curse. 

His opponent, he noted quite clearly. 
Was having some trials of his own; 
In fact, both were playing like sailors 

Half seas over, and hard tempest-blown. 
At last our old friend at the " punch-bowl," 

Exploded with vehement force. 
And just let her rip, straight from the Up, 

That echoed half over the 
course. 

Then he stopped, out of 
breath, while the "par- 
son," 
Who paused in amaze- 
ment complete. 
Then, roaring with jubilant 
laughter. 
Exclaimed : '* Ye gods, 

that is sweet ! 
50 





They told me that you were a rector, 
Of a living down Ottawa way; 

0, wait till I see the guy that strung me 
There'll be just the devil to pay ! " 



" LOST BALL " 

He sat beside the silv'ry stream 

Beneath a shady tree, 
Alone in sweetest solitude 
And reading peacefully. 
And while he sat, his wan- 
dering glance 
Unwittingly did fall 
Upon an unexpected 
sight, 
A little dotted 
ball. 

He pickM it up 
with interest 
And scann'd it 
o'er and o'er, 

51 





4t ^ 

" A curious thing," he muttered low, 
" To find out here, I'm sure." 

So in his pocket carelessly 
He dropped it out of sight, 

And turning to his treasured book 
He soon forgot it — quite. 




The silence of that soft retreat 

Far from the madd'ning crowd 
Was all at once disturbed by 
A voice both stern and loud: 

*' By Gad," it said, in 
tones of wrath, 
" It came this way all 
right. 
And I will find the blas- 
ted thing. 
If I stay here all night." 

He hunted round, and as 
he glared. 
The man beneath the 
tree 

52 




rr-J 



Ou 



Began to think it was for gems 
Or gold, he searched, may be — 

So nervously he cough'd, ahem! 
To let the other know 

That he was there against his will 
And would be glad to go. 



The searcher turned with startled air 

Surprised a man to see, 
Who rose before him like a ghost 

Saluting nervously. 
" Beg pardon," said the timid one, 

" I notice, sir, with pain. 
You seem to be in trouble 

And search, alas, in vain! " 

" The blankest luck I ever 
had!" 
The searcher snorted, mad, 
" I play'd the first eight per- 
fectly 
And now I'm lost, by gad ! 
53 





My drive I missed, and then I sliced 
And right round here I fell, 

! blank the blank blank blanket thing, 
My good score's gone to H — 11 ! " 




The timid gent was quite appall'd 

And rackM his worried brain 
To guess what prize this fearful man 

Expected there to gain, 
For, on his knees, he puff' d and cuss'd, 

Inspecting angrily, 
Every bush and blade of grass 
Around that fatal tree. 

At last the timid gent inquired 

In gentle tones withal, 
If he, the anxious one, perchance 
Had lost a little ball? 
And as he spoke he handed 
out 
V -v^N^^v The ball — then sure as 
'^^< .Ji^^^^^^t- fate — 



54 




He got a true description of 
A brain-storm — up-to-date. 

"THE GOLFIAC*' 

I met old Duffum on the links, 

His face all wreathed in smiles; 
Which really seems remarkable, 

Considering his trials. 
His wife eloped the other day, 

And gaily started off; 
Saying she would Uke to be 

Preferred to silly golf. 

And then old Duffum's lost a pile 

In stocks that cost him dear; 
He must have dropped a '' hundred thou." 

But didn't drop a tear. 
He seems so philosophical. 

That nothing causes pain. 
Except when he gets " bunk- 
ered," or 

Old Duff gets off his ^ 

game. e/=^'nwv,^. 

55 




A>Wz^ti^ 




It's only just the other day 

His confidential man 
Skipped off, with quite a tidy sum, 

To spend with Uncle Sam; 
But, strange to say, old Duffum beamed 

That night delightedly, 
Because he'd made the punch " bowl " in 

A most surprising '' three " ! 



And now the bank in which he stored 

The balance of his cash 
Has tried a stunt in high finance. 

And come an awful crash. 
The shocking news disturbs him not — 
He scorns the hand of fate; 
For Duffum's just won out his match, 
And made a *' ninety-eight " ! 

YOU NEVER CAN TELL " 




I watchM them when they started 
off 

To try and play a round of 
golf; 

56 



J 







She was a beginner, so 
I wondered how the game would go — 
You never can tell ! 

In driving off from '' number two '* 
I thought things look'd a trifle blue; 
For she reallv had no swing. 
And couldn't hit a blessed thing — 
But, you never can tell ! 

At " number four " they'd lost their place, 
A cloud bedimm'd his manly face ; 
No doubt he found it rather tame 
To be poHte ; but, just the same — 
You never can tell! 

I saw them next beneath a^^/ 
tree, ^ 

The maid was laughing mer- 
rily; 

Holding him, I should declare, 

A rather willing captive there 

- bttt - <^:=^*^^_ 

You never can tell ! - ^ 

57 





At any rate, it's safe to say, 
They'd found a game that she could play ; 
While he seemed going rather strong, 
Altho', of course, I may be wrong — 
You never can tell ! 

When next I had to pass that way, 
'Twas getting late ; and I should say. 
To judge from that devoted kiss. 
They're booked for one long dream of bliss 
But, you never can tell! 




"LINKS AND DRINKS'* 

Captain Green and his chosen team 

One day went off to play 
A rural club, looking for " troub " 

A good many miles away. 
They boarded the train with a 
haughty air, 
For such was their great re- 
nown 
It was infra dig. for them so big — 
To play such a queer little town. 
5^ 



' ►A.^>*-^Z. tkv 







Captain Green and his lusty team 

Were met by the local bunch 
With lots of fuss, the omnibus 

Bore them away to lunch; 
They soon sat down to a glorious spread 

And things of the finest brand, 
Which was quite enough to show the stuff 

That Uved in that rustic land. 



Captain Green and his hungry team 

Were right on the job, you bet ; 
ApproachM the drinks, in a 
way me thinks 
One won't very well for- 
get; 
And when they'd finished and 
started out 
To drive from the first old 
'' tee," 
Their curious stance, did not 
enhance 
Their chances of victory. 
59 




, ^ 



y^.'^^v 1^\ 





Captain Green and his festive team 

Did not show up real strong ; 
They didn't play in their usual way, 

And, Lor', how they carried on. 
The Cap himself did all that he could 

Their faiUng hearts to cheer, 
But most of the gang stood round and sang 

" We're here, because We're here! " 



Captain Green and his merry team, 
The end of the first nine holes. 

With throats that burn, did 
all adjourn 
To freshen their thirsty 
souls. 
They all sat round 'neath 
the cooling shade 
And toasted that country 
town 
And didn't give a hang, tho' 
each of the gang 
Were all very badly down, 




60 




Captain Green and his thirsty team 

At last prepared to go, 
They gave up the game and drove to the 
train 

In a glorious state, what ho ! 
The golfers bold of that rural town 

Were not very strong on the links, 
But dangerous quite, when it came to a fight 

With any old kind of 
drinks. 



A DUFFER 



Young Thompkins ought 

the game to play, 
He tried his best in 

every way ; 
Bought a bag which 

cost him " ten," 
Has club of every 

make and ken ; 




6i 










- ^> - A 







<■' 






,^-^r' 



v^^'v^. 



/ 



i 



Read Braid on " Golf," and Vardon, too — 
Tried all the balls he ever knew; 
But still, alas ! of all our club, 
He typifies the perfect dub. 

Our worthy Pro. has tried in vain 
To teach him how to play the game ; 
Helped him all that he could do. 
To eye the ball and follow thro* ; 
His clothes are always latest style — 
To watch him pose is quite worth while ; 

He really should have 

been a star, 
.^ . But he*s a dub — and there 

you are ! 

Why Thompkins fails we 
cannot see — 

He practises most pa- 
tiently ; 

Went to Pinehurst for a 
week, 

Some new remedy to seek ; 

62 





^tOm 



Watch'd Tillinghast and others play — 
Even that was lost they say, 
He looks the part, and that's the rub — 
He still remains a perfect dub. 



THE GAME OF GOLF 

We both started out for the Babbicombe links, 

I, and my old pal, Jim; 
To play for the dinners — likewise the drinks. 

With a ball a hole thrown in. 
The wind was perfect, the Hght was good. 

And we felt like making a score ; 
So we stepped to the '' tee," with a hope, you see 

Of beating our " eighty- 
four." 



The ball that I drove was 
both steady and long, 
Jimmie's was only fair; 
His second, a brassy, not 
very strong. 
Put him 'way up in the air. 

63 





He got there at last, and holed in ** five," 
Tho' the ** bogey " for this is " three," 

I holed on my third, and James was heard 
A-cussin' his luck, quite free. 




4 



The second and the third I won at my ease, 

Jim, at the fourth, lost his ball; 
From what I could gather, it went to the woods 

And never was seen to fall. 
At the end of the " ninth " I was four holes up. 
And Jimmie was looking quite sad; 

I was sorry for him, and it seemed a sin, 
To feel in my heart so glad. 



Z/i >:m 



x\/^ Showing my sympathy, 

r\ -y^ By bidding him think of the fun weM had 
/^ I ^ ^^ And the beautiful scenery. 

V v^iZ^3}\. I chaffed him gently, for I felt so 

good, 

Till the next three holes 
he scored ; 



/ 






^^nj^x*;/ 




64 




z^$ 



Then I confess my carelessness 
Made me a trifle bored. 

It makes quite a change when things go wrong, 

Jimmie was f eeUng gay ; 
He got on his game, and was going strong, 

While I was fading away. 
His kind words of cheer and his sympathy, 

When he won the " dip " in *' two " — 
Annoyed, for I fell in a spot — 0, well! 

The air was a trifle blue. 



I hated the smile on old Jim's fat face ; 

Lor' ! how it made me writhe. 
When he won the match, to my own disgrace. 

At the seventeenth hole, in " flve." 
And as we walked back to the old 
club house, 

A chipper old Jim was he ; 
And he said, with a grin: " When 
your match you win. 

How it chaujges the scenery! " 




-A^lNv^ 



/^^^>»-^Z.-t'v 



65 




TOO BAD 

I gazed with a wonderful rapture, 

At the deep tinted blue of her eyes, 
The mystical grace of her features. 

That filled my soul with surprise. 
Her head was uncovered to Heaven, 

Her hair, 'neath the sun, shone like gold, 
And she stood like a classical goddess^ 

A glorious sight to behold. 



She smiled as my friend introduced me, 

And the light of her smile did possess 
The god-given wealth of sweet sunshine 
That beamed with a pure tenderness. 

She spoke just a few words of wel- 
come. 
Revealing the modulent tone 
Of a voice that was surely created 
To speak from a queen's gilded 
throne. 




watched 
ecstatic, 

66 



with a pleasure 



IV: 



^^ i 



(A^ 



^^&^ 

^\^^\ 



f»f 



As she drove from the first " teeing ground," 
The rhythmical swing of her " driver " 

Was perfectly timed, and I found 
She played with a skill most surprising. 

The joy of the game lit her face. 
While her sweet " follow thro* " and abandon 

Was surely symbolic of grace. 

I found with a great satisfaction. 

That her nature was noble and true. 
Her mind was unconsciously perfect, 

And loyal to her friends thro' and thro' ! 
In fact but one fault I discovered. 

It hurts, as such faults only can, 
Alas, she's engaged to an- 
other — 

And I am to be his best man ! ,^ 

*♦ THE NINETEENTH HOLE '* 

Here's to the easiest hole on the 
links, 
Inspiring, refreshing and free. 
Where a man can explain why he <^^^=^^%^^^^,i^.^^ 




loses his game, 



67 




Or boast of some proud victory. 
Where a Duffer forgets all his troubles and cares, 

And gladdens his sorrowful soul 
With spirits that cheer and the best of good beer 

On tap at the *' Nineteenth hole." 



'Tis there that the " Cracker," exalted by fame, 

Condescends to be chummie and gay. 
And the dubber of dubs — on the links sure of 
snubs 

All meet 'neath true fellowship's sway. 
For everything goes, on this classical green 

Where the clinking old '* high balls *' roll. 
And it's safe to acclaim, that each man's on his 
game 

When he reaches the " Nineteenth hole." 



" THEORIES " 

I've been reading thro' the winter, 
all the books that I could 
reach, 

(Look out, my lads, he's 
driving!) 

68 








Imbibing all the knowledge, that the faculty 
could teach. 

(Look out, my lads, he's driving!^ 
I'm going to cultivate a stance that Braid de- 
clares is right, 
Pve changed my grip, for Travers says I grasp 

my club too tight. 
In fact my form in future will be scientific — quite. 
(Look out, my lads, he's driving!) 

I have worked the bally game out, and its points 
I've got 'em pat. 

(Look out, my lads, he's 
driving!) 
The thing's a cinch, with study, I 
soon discovered that. 

(Look out, my lads, he's 
driving !) 
I've bought a box of " latest " 

balls — perfect, so they say, 
A set complete of famous clubs, the 
old I've cast away. 

69 





The only thing for me to do, is just go out and 
play. 

(Look out, my lads, he's driving!) 



I have purchased from my tailors, a suit of 
sporty style, 

(Look out, my lads, he's driving!) 
And shoes of special value, that should hold me 
for a while. 

(Look out, my lads, 
he's driving!) 
The boys came out to watch 
me, and cheered as I be- 
gan 
To take my stance and wag- 
gle, upon the latest plan. 
I swung like Harry Var- 
don, and topped it bad — 
d— n! 

(Look out, my lads, 
he's driving!) 
70 




¥ 




So after all the theories, I have learned about the 

game, 

(Look out, my lads, he's driving!) 
I wonder whos' the fault is, and where to place 

the blame. 

(Look out, my lads, he's driving!) 
I only know that so far I cannot hit a 

thing, 
No matter how I changed my 

stance, or how I try to 

swing ; 
But while I fuss, and 

muss and cuss, — I 

hear a small voice 

sing — 

Look out, my 

lads, he's driv- 
ing! 




71 



Wl 




AU REVOIR 

There's a chill in the air, 

The trees are stark bare, 
And the light's growing shorter each day; 

The winds sweep the course, 

With insolent force, 
And the river flows sombre and gray. 

Well, good-bye to golf. 

For alas! it's all off 
With the sport, till another good year; 

And so with a sigh, 

We'll put our clubs by. 
And dwell in past memories dear. 

O ! we kept it up strong, 
The whole season long, 
And we've tasted of joy and despair; 
The sting of defeat. 
We've felt, and the sweet 



Of Victory's Crown for our share. 

We've played the old game, 

In mist, and in rain. 
When the sun, like a furnace did stream, 

While we puff'd and perspir'd, 

Yet never we tired. 
Of the hills, and the glorious scene. 

A toast then to golf, 

Let outsiders scoff. 
At the best of all joy giving games ; 

It adds to the wealth. 

Of your life and your health. 
And its fair fascination remains. 

It adds to our friends, 

And fellowship blends. 
When good golfers meet, and I'm sure, 

You'll join, boys, with me 

In sincerity, 
And drink to old Golf — Au revoir ! 




73 




.i 



